The Day of the Terrible Scones
by Oboeist3
Summary: "The day it happened was a fairly normal one, France and America had gone out on a date, and as per usual, had eaten copious amounts of foodstuffs, done something fun and make out vigorously. But when they returned, it was everyone's worst nightmare. England had come over, for what reason neither knew, and had decided to use their kitchen in their absence!" FrUs crack. R&R?


Hey guys, author here! I recently fell heads over heals for a certain rarepair, mostly thanks to .com, a blog you should check out if you get the chance, and upon which this hopefully funny little crackfic was based. I love reviews, I really do, especially when it comes to how I do France, no innuendo intended, because he is a complicated character and I haven't written much of him. I hope you enjoy the story, have a nice day and DFTBA!

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The day it happened was a fairly normal one, France and America had gone out on a date, and as per usual, had eaten copious amounts of foodstuffs, done something fun and make out vigorously. But when they returned, it was everyone's worst nightmare. England had come over, for what reason neither knew, and had decided to use their kitchen in their absence!

Black smoke came out of the slightly ajar door, and there was an overwhelming scent of burnt something, which they both feared to be scones, and even worse, he was singing some old folk sound that was probably Norse in origin because most of the sounds were made with the back of his throat, and Arthur had never been the best singer when it was something normal, let alone that. The two dating nations stared at the door with wide eyes, not exactly sure how to process this terrible reality.

"Every man for himself!" said America, trying to block the scent by covering his face with his jacketed arm, coughing slightly. How he'd managed to grow up on those he didn't know, but needless to say he didn't like it anymore. France on the other hand, who had recently visited the Italias, had a convenient white flag in his pocket, and quickly began waving it in an attempt to clear the air, which was only somewhat successful. "What if we make out? Will that scare him away?" he asked, after all, making out solved a lot of problems, not that he never needed an excuse.

"France!" he said, not because the suggestion was unappealing or anything, this was France after all. "Let's see, we've got freaking England in our kitchen, possibly making the worst scones in all of history, and you think making out is going to help his mood?! Remember what happened when we told him the first time?!" he said, not really mad as France so much that his house smelt like burnt scones when he was having such a nice day with his love. France couldn't help but flinch a little at the memory, he had one hell of a right hook, if no cooking abilities oncesoever. "But this is your house, non? He can't be a "gentleman" if he beats up a guest in the host's house." he pointed out, though by that logic he really shouldn't be using their kitchen anyway.

"Oh.. fine! But I'm not treating you if you get a black eye again!" he conceded, partially because he too was in favor of some making out action, and he didn't see any other real solution, he couldn't just kick out his old mentor and the guy who'd raised him. Using the white flag they managed to clear the air enough to stumble in, England closing the door of the oven and placing the blackish lumps on the table, so at least there was no more new smoke. As it happened, in his haste America had stumbled against the table, and France, taking his opportunity, started kissing him quite vigorously against it.

"Oh America, you're ba-ck." he said, turning to face the sound and finding well the two making out. "America! I can't believe you and that frog are doing this in front of me! Are you even listening! Have you no sense you git!" he ranted, but America was a bit too occupied to reply, seeing as France had started using tongue and pushing him harder against the table. " Did you learn nothing from my lessons! That's it! I don't have to stand for this! I will take myself and my scones away from lowlife frogs and the stupid people who date them!" he huffed, grabbing the plate and storming out, the door slamming behind him with a thump!

America slowly broke off for air and let out a sigh of relief, there was a lingering scent yes, but he was gone and it would pass soon enough. 'Huh. I guess that actually worked." he said, and France had a look of success and something else entirely on his face. "Oui, but I do not believe that secession was sufficient to keep him away. We should continue upstairs, devrions-nous pas?" he suggested, his tone suggestive, as it tended to be, but he had noticed it took on a much more loving tone when it came to him, instead of just perverted. The French was not hurting his case either, and he was probably fully aware of it. "Alright." he said simply, and he was whisked off to a well needed "reunion", England and his antics far from his mind. Maybe he hadn't ruined today after all.


End file.
